The Failsafe Way of Getting Your Ex Back
by crackers4jenn
Summary: Friday Night Lights. At the heels of desperation, Landry and Julie set to make Tyra and Matt jealous. By going out on a date with each other.
1. Chapter 1

1.

When you were supposed to be dating Landry Clarke, it took a lot of optimism. A whole lot, at least a year's supply, and that's just to get yourself dressed and out the door.

Julie stood in front of the mirror, looking herself over. She wanted to look cute, but she didn't want to look like she was _trying_ to look cute, because then Landry might get the wrong idea, even though they went over the plan at least four times after practice on Wednesday and twice at lunch on Thursday, in varying but mostly extensive detail.

At least her hair looked okay. The leggings were totally last school year, but they'd have to do—besides, she didn't have time to change, and even if she did, if she marched back over to her closet for the fifth time to pick something else out, that'd be, like, tragic. She didn't need to be tragic right now; she needed to be at ease, cool, calm.

With a deep breath, she grabbed her purse from a side table, said a silent prayer of _Please, let this work out_, and opened her bedroom door. She warily made her way down the hallway, one quiet step at a time, but as soon as the living room came into view—and, more importantly, her parents—she hurried things up, rounding the corner towards the door with a speed you'd be accustomed to if you liked to watch race cars drive in circles around a big concrete loop.

"Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!" she called out, her destination in sight. She was close. So close she could almost feel the door knob in her hands, when—

"Hey, hey, hey. Not so fast," her dad called after her, and from the way his voice got louder at the end, it meant he wasn't sitting down watching tapes of the game any more. Great, now he was a standing opposition. Now she had to deal with two looming parental units instead of just one. At least Gracie was sound asleep in their parent's bedroom.

"What?" she barked out—it was her defensive tactic. That bratty, I-have-no-time-for-you variation of teenager seemed to always cool them down a little. Petty, but it was a strong weapon to have. "I'm _going_ out. You _both_ agreed I get one free night during the week, guess what, this is it, so why don't you go interrogate your other daughter, you know, the one who still needs to stand before the grand inquisition every time she wants to go out, and—a-and I'll be back by 10, that was the deal, right?"

Her dad exchanged a look with her mom—like, what, she was three again and completely blind to those?—and said, "Now, just hang on a sec. No one said you couldn't go out—"

"Great! So we're agreed! So can I go, or are you intentionally trying to exterminate the little that is left of my social life by making me late?"

"Honey," her mom said, coming out of the kitchen, "no one's trying to _exterminate_ your social life, that's just... frankly, that's a little melodramatic."

"Great, so now I'm melodramatic? Gee, thanks, Mom!"

"What your mother is trying to say—"

Her mom shot a dark look at her father, then turned back to Julie looking passive and unassuming, like she was narrowing in on a rabid animal and didn't want to spook the thing, and said, "What your _mother_ is trying to say, and she can speak for herself, thank you, is that, yes, we all sat down and had the discussion about giving you a night away from—"

"The chaos?" she laughed, bitingly.

"Well, alright, if that's the word you want to use."

"Besides," Julie said, "it wasn't just a discussion, you guys _said_, like, _explicitly_, that I could go out—"

"We did, and I think, honey, Julie, I think maybe you just need to take a deep breath and just try to relax some. What's got you so wound up?"

Guilt tried to bubble its way inside, but she pushed it down, at least a little. There _was_ the slightest chance that she was wound up and over-reacting, entirely separate from her parents, but it's not like that realization can be voiced aloud, ever. "Nothing. I'm not worked up, I—I'm fine, I—I'm good, seriously, I just want to go out, once, and not have you guys mow me down before I even reach the front door."

"Well, Julie," her dad said, in that placating but still stern voice, "maybe you should try to remember that we're your parents, and as your parents, we're entitled to a little mowin' every now and again. That's what parents do."

"Jules, where're you going? That's all we want to know."

Her dad looked like he wanted to argue the point, but because, you know, a divided front only lead to more rebellion, he didn't.

"I'm going to the movies."

"On a school night?"

"Yes, Dad, on a school night. We agreed, remember?"

"I'm starting to think that agreement of ours might not've been the best idea we've ever had."

Her mom clapped her hands together before another argument could break out. That was good. That's what Julie was counting on. "Well, alright then! Have fun, don't stay out too late," she said, ushering Julie along towards the door, out of her father's path. "Call if you need us! Bye!"

And the door was practically slammed in her face.

2.

There were boundaries on this hypothetical date.

a) Absolutely no touching—accidental, intentional, or otherwise.  
b) No mentioning of Landry's band, not even in subtle passing.  
c) Member's Only jackets were strictly forbidden.

Julie had Landry meet her at the corner at the end of the street, because at least by then she'd mostly be out of her parents view and therefore avoid the 'Is that Landry Clarke?' / 'No, that's that Lance kid—what're you doin' hangin' out with that Lance kid?' conversation.

He swung up to the curve at the side of the road in his great, hulking station wagon, and Julie jumped back, avoiding the wide bulk of the front of the car. She could see him in there, leaning over the seat, saying, "Sorry!", and she clenched her jaw and took a deep breath and opened the door, sliding into the car before her natural instincts could take over and she went--_ran_--back home.

"Sorry," he said again once she had her seat belt buckled, almost mumbling, "she, uh, she doesn't really take to turning too well. It's one of her least attractive qualities."

Julie sunk back into the hollow part of her seat. "It's fine."

He turned the steering wheel and started pulling onto the road. Julie resisted the urge to turn around and see whether or not her parents were filing out of the front door to chase after her.

"So," he said, "as customary on a first date—"

"This is _not_ a first date, it's nowhere near even _being_ a first date!"

"Hypothetically speaking. I'm sorry, I should've mentioned that first. Made it clear." He scratched at his left temple. "Hypothetically speaking, on one's first date with a new young lady such as yourself, one finds something to compliment his date about."

"Yeah, well. Feel free to break _one's custom_ for this hypothetical first date."

He looked over at her, clearly uncomfortable, and came up with, "Your hair looks nice this young, autumn evening."

She laughed, she couldn't help it. "This young, autumn evening?"

He started to smile. "Alright, so that one was weak, I'll give you that. I can try again if that's what you'd like? Maybe say something surprisingly poetic about your purse, there?"

"I think I'll pass."

"That's too bad, I'm really good with words. _Extremely_ good. I don't want to come off sounding like I'm bragging, but I could be something like a connoisseur."

"Of words?"

"Words. Sentences. Some times entire paragraphs."

She laughed again, feeling herself relax. This wasn't so bad. This was like car rides to school when she and Matt were still together. "I'll keep that in mind." Leaning forward, she fiddled with the radio. This car was ancient, but it still had pre-set radio stations. Unfortunately, everything Landry had pre-set was un-listenable.

"So Matt asked about you earlier today." It's like the simple act of previously thinking about him sent out some likewise brainwave to Landry. _Matt, Matt, Matt._

She hesitated, abandoning the radio. "He did?"

"I told him we had plans. Strictly speaking, just the two of us."

"You did?"

"Was I not supposed to? I thought I was supposed to. I thought that was the plan?"

"No, no, no, no, no. You were supposed to, that is the plan, it's just. Now it's out there. For everyone to gossip about."

"Well, now. It _was_ just Matt who asked."

"Yeah, now, but wait until we show up to school tomorrow, you don't think we're not gonna be, like, public target number one?"

"Not to sound like I'm repeating myself, but. I thought that was the plan? Go out on a date—"

"A hypothetical date!"

"Which is what I initially said, and, and. Every one sees and it gets—it gets sent out into the wind, like a tiny little bird, just fluttering in the wind, and pretty soon Matt and Tyra are falling at our respective feet. And correct me if I'm wrong, but that was the plan, was it not?"

"In a less eloquently put way, yes."

"Well, then. That's good."

Needing a change of subject, she blurted out, "So what're we watching?"

He looked over at her, his fingers tapping a tuneless beat on the steering wheel. How he could be so casual, so coolly detached, it intrigued here. "Well, again, as customary, the lady usually has first choice."

"The lady?" she snorted. "Please tell me you haven't ever referred to Tyra as _the lady_."

"No. Not as such. Maybe once..."

"Oh my god, okay. Rule number one. You can't just go around calling girls The Lady. Maybe you think you're being _suave_, or whatever your main objective is, but you're not, it's just... honestly, Landry, it's a little creepy."

"Wait, wait, wait."

"Eyes on the road! Eyes!"

He just un-swerved his previous swerving path, so that now, at least, they weren't in danger of side-swiping a mail box. "I thought girls liked that sort of thing? Chivalry. Guys holding doors open for them. Things of that bureaucratic nature."

"We do. We also want our guys to be living sometime in the current decade, as opposed to the many centuries ago you seem to be dwelling."

He stared straight ahead. "That's just. Well isn't that nice of you to offer up..." and his voice sort of gradually faded at the end there. Julie stifled her laugh. Calling him out on his out-dated dating strategies offended him--cute. "I'll take that into consideration."

"Good," she said, stealing a glance at him. "And just so you know, you have to buy me popcorn."

3.

She heard the whispers and saw the glances. People were staring at them. Talking about them. Huddled groups of sophomores and juniors, social cliques of varying degrees of popularity, a few of the cheerleaders.

Julie leaned in towards Landry, who was in the process of paying for their popcorn. "Hurry up, please." A little panicky, but not overly-so.

This was all part of the plan, she told herself. I mean, what would be the point of going out on some stupid fake date with Landry if no one saw them?

He thanked the guy behind the counter and took the tub full of fatty, over-buttered popped kernels, then started them on their way towards the movie theater. She didn't even know what movie they were seeing. It didn't matter.

A girl slid in front of them all of a sudden, stopping them, and Julie almost gasped out loud. Her heart was pounding in her throat, which was ridiculous. What was she so nervous about? Throwing herself out there in front of the whole school, throwing herself to the sharks, it had been her idea. Of course, it'd also seemed a lot easier to follow through on when her and Landry were conspiring outside of the boy's locker room, going over every last detail.

"Hi, Landry," she said, and Julie recognized her—Susan McDowell, only the school's biggest herder of gossip. "Hey, Julie." A wide, fake smile. "Are you two--?" She dabbed at the air between them, as if asking, _Is this for real? You guys are together?_

Julie felt the protest, the reflexive _No, no, no, no, no!_ clambering inside of her, but before she could find words, Landry wrapped a heavy arm around her shoulder. _Against the rules!_ her brain immediately screamed, _No touching allowed!_, but she swallowed it with a forced smile, as well as some rising bile.

"That would be what I like to refer to as classified information," he said, and still, Julie kept on smiling, like a big dope incapable of doing anything else. At least she hoped she simply looked amused at Landry's antics, not certifiably insane.

A wide grin spread across Susan's face, and she chirped, "Nice!" Then some friends she was with beckoned her back with the urgency of their movie almost starting, but, please, they were totally going to sit there and dissect this newly given piece of information like a bunch of feral animals. "Well," she said, "enjoy the show!" and fluttered away almost as quickly as she'd come.

Julie struggled to be released from Landry's grip, but that just made him tuck her in closer. "Dates, remember?" he said, like that explained everything. "Can't have people thinking I'm not a romantic, now can we? Word like that gets around, I'm likely to wither away, date-less my entire life."

She glared, but allowed it. "I thought the whole point of this was to get Tyra back? What do you care what other people think?"

"Try to stay on my level, if you can, but I'm talking semantics, alright? All the same, I'd like my reputation to remain pristine."

"I hate to break it to you, but you're not exactly known as the Don Quixote of Dillion High."

"You wound me," he joked, pulling them, along with their bucket of popcorn, into the darkened theater. "But at least I can finally see what's always appealed to our darling Matt about you."

"My ability to not dry-heave when in contact with vermin such as yourself?" she snarked, but there wasn't any real bite in it.

"Funny. That's real funny."


	2. Chapter 2

4.

First, Matt stopped Julie in the cafeteria.

"So, what, are you and Landry, like, boyfriend and girlfriend now?" he asked, in that awkward, almost slurred way that so defined him, where every other syllable was emphasized. He wasn't even looking at her, he was staring two spaces to her right.

Julie readjusted her bag that she had slung over one shoulder. The plan was, according to her and Landry's post-(hypothetical) date plan discussion last night, that if asked, they'd agree that it was a (non-hypothetical) date, but they never extended the realm of possibilities to include 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend'. Part of her wanted to laugh and say, _Landry Clarke? My boyfriend? Only on the planet of forced lobotomies_, but another side, sensing that anxious, wound up edge currently making Matt shift from foot to foot, wanted him to suffer just a little bit. I know, I know, I mean, she was totally the one that broke up with him because of the Suede, or whatever, but he dated that rally girl right in front of her and then he was super cozy, like, freakishly cozy with his grandma's nurse and--she just wanted him to suffer a little bit, that's all.

Once again readjusting her strap, she said, "I-I don't know, maybe." It seemed like a good, solid neutral answer, plus it made him look her in the eye for, like, 2.3 seconds.

He shook his head, kind of bobbed it back and forth there, and started backing away. "That's good. Good for you. That's--that's really good..." And by then he was three lunch tables away, still sort of bouncing his head up and down, and suddenly Julie felt like spilling everything to him--about how much she missed him, how their break-up was the stupidest thing she'd ever done, about Landry, but he just said again, "You two are real good together," kind of pathetically.

He was nervous and probably a little confused and maybe jealous and that was all part of the plan, but he was hurt, too, and she hadn't really thought that part through.

She took a step forward, saying, "Matt, wait," just as Landry sidled up to her side and slid an arm around her shoulder, which was, like, so far beyond inappropriate she almost smacked him. Right there. In the middle of the cafeteria, where the whole world thought they were dating.

"There you are," Landry said in this adopted affectionate rumble of words, acting oblivious to Matt, who looked like someone had just publicly trampled all over his heart, which is kind of what they were doing.

Matt clenched his jaw and turned away, leaving, and Julie could only watch him go, fighting back the sudden threat of tears. Great, and now she was a hormonal cry-baby, too.

Landry led her outside, where once they were away from the watchful eyes of Dillion High spectators she pushed his arm off of her and did some healthy, therapeutic stomping around. She felt like a child, like some kid throwing a tantrum, but her mind was racing and she was pretty sure she was going to be sick, right there, right now--

"You're not bailing on me, are you?" Landry asked, sounding worried, just watching her as she paced. "Please tell me I don't have a bona fide bailer on my hands."

"This whole thing is so stupid, Landry. It's not going to work. Why did we ever think it would?"

"Hey, now, listen." When she didn't stop, he took charge, grabbing her by the elbow to get her to stand still. She did, but with a look that let him know she wasn't pleased with his caveman methods. "We knew this was going to happen. I think we knew, very specifically, that this was gonna happen."

She jerked her arm away from him. "Public humiliation? Being casted as the school shock couple of the week? Yeah, I anticipated that, obviously." She calmed, looked at him almost pleadingly to _understand_. "Did you see his face? He looked so sad."

"Here I go sounding like a broken record again," Landry said, "but it's all part of our grand, and if I recall correctly, amazingly well thought out plan. I'm not saying I like it any more than you do, but we're already in it. It's already done. We can't back out now and just--go about like normal."

Folding her hands across her chest, she kicked at some dirt. He was right, of course. "I know. But I hate it. I keep thinking about how hard it was seeing Matt with that rally girl, and how it really, really sucked, but this must be so much worse. You're his best friend, and I'm--" She laughed, this self-deprecating, biting bark. "I'm just an ex-girlfriend. It's so stupid."

"What about me? You think I like having Tyra look at me like I'm some kinda sub-human species she'd scrape off the bottom of her shoe? I can tell you right now that it's not something I lie awake dreaming about, just laying there thinking, _You know what would be absolutely wonderful? If Tyra despised my very existence._"

Julie fought back that harsh laughter again. "Then what are we doing?"

5.

Tami pushed her way into her husband's office, nearly blurting out, "Our daughter is dating Landry Clarke," in this scandalized, bewildered, almost too-loud voice.

Eric barely looked up from one of the playbooks he'd been studying. "Who now?"

"Landry Clarke," she informed him once again, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. "Hangs out with Matt Saracen. Drives that big ol' car around that I don't think is the safest vehicle a teenager just learnin' to drive should be behind the wheel of."

Now he did look up. "Landry Clarke," he said, like he was testing the name out, "Landry--you mean, that Lance kid? Your daughter's dating that Lance kid?"

"Not my daughter. _Our_ daughter. Our daughter is dating Landry Clarke." She moved in close, dropped her voice down to some conspirative degree. "You know what she's doing? She's walking around the school with him, and he's got his arm all flung over her, like some big public declaration, like she's out there broadcasting it for everyone to see."

"Hang on now. You're sure?"

"Oh, I'm sure. Saw it with my own eyes."

"With Lance?"

"With Landry Clarke."

"That's what I said." He raked a hand over his eyes. "This isn't good. For one, I don't like the way that Lance kid--"

"Landry."

"--talks to me. You ever hear him? It's like a mumble. It's like he's mumbling all the time, always saying stuff under his breath. I don't like it."

"That certainly doesn't sound very respectful," she said, a little teasingly.

"No, it certainly doesn't, and I'll tell you what else."

She drooped herself lazily around her husband's shoulders, chin to chin. "What else, honey."

He gave her a good side-glare out of the corner of his eye. "I see what you're doing there."

With some feigned shock, she said, "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Oh, yeah? You're sticking with that? That's what you're gonna stick with?"

"I do think I am sticking with that, yes."

He smiled, but Tami said, "I'll talk to her," and it took the spontaneity out of the moment.

6.

Her mom bumped into her in the hallway between classes. "Hey, Jules, how's it going?"

Julie shrugged, a little wary. Her mom looked on the prowl. "Fine, I guess." She pointed down the hall, aware that the bell was going to ring any second now. "I've got Calculus, so..."

"I know, I need to talk to you, though. Just a sec, hon, I swear."

"Mom, I have to go to--"

"And I know that, which is why it'll only be a sec. C'mon."

Once she'd been led like someone about to be executed to her mom's tiny counseling office, Julie sank into the couch, ready for the lecture of a lifetime. Instead, though, her mom sat down at a chair across from her, then simply stared at her.

Julie fidgeted. "What?" When her mom didn't say anything, she upped the tone a few degrees in brattiness. "What?!"

"I can't believe you would do that," her mom said, serious and in that _I'm here to cause you guilt_ tone.

"Mom," Julie sighed, because, of course, trust her mom to take something she had no clue about and it twist into this whole giant melodramatic ordeal just so she could find something to blab about in a serious self-righteous way.

"Oh, no, uh-uh, you don't get to do that." Then her voice took a more pleading quality to it. "What're you doin', Julie? What are you doin' to poor Matt Saracen, walking around this school with Landry Clarke? I mean, did you even think, did it even cross your mind to think about who maybe you're effectin' with your actions, there?"

"No," she snarked, "no, you're absolutely right, I'm just so thoughtless I guess I didn't care, I guess it didn't cross my mind once."

Her mom looked upset--probably because her whole imperial mother/daughter balance was seriously getting tilted, but she said, "Well, what about Tyra? Did you even think how all this is makin' her feel--"

"What about how I feel? Huh, Mom? 'Cause you're so worried about Matt and Tyra, you're so _concerned_, but what about me? Did it ever occur to you for even a split second that maybe I'm not some horrible person--"

"Oh, Jules, honey, I would never think you were some horrible person, ever--"

"That maybe I'm hurting too, that maybe this sucks for more than just Matt and Tyra, did it?"

"Julie... what are you talking about?"

Julie was suddenly finding the words hard to come by.

"You and Landry Clarke _aren't_ dating?" her mom poked and prodded, wheels in motion.

She huffed. "Please, Mom. Like you even have to ask?"

"Yeah. I think I do."

"No, we're not dating." The eyeroll was implied. Then suddenly she was spilling her guts. "It's just this stupid plan we came up with two weeks ago to make Matt and Tyra jealous, so they'd..." She couldn't finish. It seemed so lame, so juvenile.

Her mom got it. "Well, Julie," she said, impassive, unassuming. Like they were discussing colleges. "Did you think it all the way through? Did you happen to think about repercussions?"

That hit about as close to home as Julie would allow, so she swarmed up and off the couch, grabbing her bag. "You said a second, it's been a second. I have class."

Her mom stared up at her, taken aback by the sudden change. "Well, hang on--"

But Julie stormed past her and pulled open the door with enough force to create a small breeze of wind that made the papers on her mom's desk flutter to the ground. "I have to go," she said, and slammed the door after her.


	3. Chapter 3

7.

Tyra cornered Julie in the hallway once fifth period was over. "Hey, Julie," she said, and while her words were forced out in a cheerful manner, she looked a little hellbent. Plus, she seemed like eight feet taller than normal.

"H-hi, Tyra," Julie said, shifting the weight of her bag off of her side. She was staring down the hall, not making eye contact, which was just amazing in its immaturity. There were three rally girls watching them, huddled around each other, total great white sharks.

"So, I heard the craziest thing today. I think you're gonna laugh, 'cause I know _I_ did. Linda told me that Beth told her that Susan saw you and Landry at the movies together. Which is, _whatever_, y'all can watch any ol' movie you want, but then this mornin' it starts skitterin' down the halls like a swarm of flies that, what do you know, Julie Taylor and Landry Clarke are dating. A couple of high school sweethearts. Care to clear that up for me, 'cause I could'a swore you were the type who wouldn't do that."

"I-it's, it's just that. See. Well, uh." The stammering? Very dignified. She felt like coming clean, but she realized that even if she did, Tyra still probably wouldn't find the positive side to her and Landry's intentions. _No one_ was finding the positive side. "It's complicated," she tacked on lamely.

Tyra shook her head, slow as could be. Her eyes narrowed in on Julie. "I see." She tossed the bangs out of her eyes, and suddenly she was the Tyra Collette that Julie had always heard horror stories about, the one Julie had always chocked up to jealous cheerleader gossip. You know, dates Tim Riggins, sleeps around, scary-mean. But here she was, starting to introduce herself. "Isn't that _nice_," she said in a way that meant, _If I knew you any less, I would so kick your ass._

The group of rally girls started giggling, which upped Julie's heart-rate to something that probably would keel over an old person, just as the bell for sixth period rang.

"Well," Julie said, and she gave a tight smile, "we should talk about this more later. Uh, continue this, this conversation, I mean. Later. After school, okay! S-so, let's get on that!"

And then she all but fled.

8.

"Now, just calm down," Landry said, watching her with cautious, almost worried eyes. "You're so wound up all the time. Is this a typical, by which I mean unique, Julie Taylor character trait? 'Cause I gotta tell you, if it is, I'm not sure I should unleash you on Matt. I'm not convinced you should be unleashed upon the public, but since that one is unfortunately out of my hands, I'll settle for some baby steps towards keeping you confined. We need to diffuse you," he decided all of a sudden with a snap of his fingers. "That's what we need to do. Like you're a bomb, some big, nuclear bomb just waitin' to go off and kill a bunch of innocent townspeople."

"I'm in the middle of a crisis and your solution is to make jokes?" She was practically gaping. "Gee, thanks, it's not like you have anything to worry about either, only everyone we know and, hey, everyone we _don't_ know treating us like we have some tragic, incurable disease. I don't know, _why_ should that bother you?"

Landry edged closer, that wariness kicked up a notch. "Anyone ever tell you you're occasionally dramatic? And I mean that sincerely, I really do."

She huffed, on the verge of blowing some serious steam with a loud, eardrum-bursting scream. Then Landry would _really_ have a reason to call her dramatic, not to mention it'd give her fellow classmates something better to talk about: Julie Taylor, the psychotic, nut-job freak.

"So Tyra talked to you," he said in a manner meant to calm. "It's not a big deal."

Julie snorted, an eyebrow raised high. "Not a big deal?"

"You probably didn't even hear her all the way out. That's probably what happened. I bet she was going to say something real encouraging, and instead you came out here to... what is it you're doing, exactly?"

"Indulging in my adolescent crisis. Feel free to exit that _lovely_ town of denial you're in and join me, any time now."

"First of all. That's just--that's offensive. I don't think I like what you're implying. I'm not in denial," he said, with a low laugh to back it up, like _that_ was convincing. "I'm not. Maybe my naturally mellow state of being is giving off some widely misinterpreted vibes. Maybe that's it."

"Or maybe you're just delusional? Wake up, Landry. Matt hates us. Tyra probably wants to beat me up. This whole thing is backfiring, big time."

"Which sounds to me like a premature jump to conclusions--conclusions, by the way, that couldn't be any more wrong. Look at it from a different perspective. We'll call it The Landry Perspective."

"Also known as The Delusion By Proximity Perspective?"

"Funny. You're a comedian. I'm saying, using the wildly accurate Landry Perspective, which, by the way, 9 out of 10 users prefer to The Julie Perspective, things are falling accordingly into place. I don't want to get too confident and use the term _perfectly_, but, for clarity's sake, let's just assume I was thinking it. Matt's upset. Tyra, if I can stand to believe it, is what reasonably appears to be jealous. Do I need to start wearin' a t-shirt that says 'That's the plan' for it to sink in, 'cause I really think nothing else'll work."

"No, the plan was to make them jealous and they, I don't know, they'd _swoon_ into our arms. Or whatever naive dream we conjured up. This is definitely _not_ the plan. This is so far from being the plan, it's like the plan's complete polar opposite. We've now reached the anti-plan stage."

"There you go, rattlin' off your dramatics again. It's fine. We're fine. Trust me."

9.

So she trusted him. Because that's what you do in a helpless situation. Someone says _trust me_, it's, I don't know. It's just a given that you have a little faith and stop being so over-dramatic all the time and anyway, since when did Julie care about the comings and goings of high-school gossip? Since practically never. So it's totally not even a big deal that she's one half of the current cafeteria rumor mill. Totally not.

Landry was waiting for her after Economics, their last class of the day. As usual she was one of the first students to pile out of the room.

"Hey," he said, moving in close when he saw her. He took her by the elbow and started pulling her along, and she was going to tug free, she was, but it just seemed so pointless now.

When he did let go, it was to usher her into an empty classroom.

"Hey," she called out at the first realization of his motives. "Landry, wait--"

The door closed after her, which made the protests sort of unnecessary.

Landry was peeking out of the door's square window, his books shuffled to one side of him. It was ridiculous.

"Uh, hello. Care to explain to me what we're doing, or should I just start ticking off a list of possibilities and you signal with your hands when I get close?"

An annoyed backwards glance, a second look out the window, and then she had his undivided attention. She'd set her books on one of the desks, all the better for her to perfect a really _don't mess with me_, arms-folded-across-her-chest stance, and he put his down as well.

"If you must know," he said, "I was invoking my given right as the hypothetical boyfriend to divert the possibilities of Tyra-related stress."

That made her posture soften. "Tyra?" Julie looked towards the door.

"I just thought it best, given certain earlier reactions, we try to avoid those types of situations."

"Is she out there? I-is she looking for me?"

Landry grabbed her at the shoulders, sliding his hands down to grip her wrists. It was friendly, comforting. "Yeah, she's got her little Julie-dar gun out. Swiping it up and down the hallways, listenin' for the beep."

She didn't want to, but it came naturally. Julie smiled. "Okay, okay, fine. Then what's with the extra elusive hiding quarters?"

"Stay with me, here, but this would be what we genius masterminds refer to as a precautionary method."

"Ah," she said, sarcasm coloring her accent, "the mind of the evil mad genius, exposed to us mere mortals."

With a pointed look, he went back to check on the thinning crowd outside. It'd been a couple of minutes. If Tyra ever actually was out there, she'd probably be long gone by now. Or, actually, come to think of it, hanging around Landry's super obvious car.

"Uh, Landry. Not to point out a fatal flaw in your obviously well plotted plan, here, but. What if she's just waiting by your car?"

There was a heavy pause where this sunk in, and fast.

Landry grabbed his books. "The precautionary period is over," he told her.

She copied his movement, collecting her own stuff. "And suddenly the mad genius is defeated by the logistics of time and, oh yeah, common sense."

He opened the door for her, avoiding her eyes as she walked past. There might have been a little _guess you're not as smart as you think you are, hmm_ hop and a bounce in her step, even, but it was short-lived. The second they were back out into the real world, her nerves started to jump around inside again.

They hadn't made it past the classroom yet. He was staring at her. "You're alright? No sudden strong urge to pace back and forth, maybe stomp around?"

"Gee," she joked, "with sensitivity like that, it's hard to imagine why you're still single."

"Not accordin' to local talk. According to local talk, not only are you staring into the eyes of a taken man, but you're looking at the lucky guy who's dating the Coach's daughter. You might want to try and remember that."

10.

"So," Julie said, chewing on the end of a fry, "in Mrs. F.'s class today, pretty much the _whole_ Y chromosome population spent the entire free time discussing our budding relationship."

Landry wiped his hands on a napkin, across the table from her. With both the Alamo Freeze and Applebees off the fine dining list, they were slumming it up at Burger 'N A Box. "Are you serious?"

She smiled, big and bright. "Mmmhmm. Get this. Officially, we're the new shock couple. I guess it is pretty surprising, you getting a girlfriend and all."

"Another dig," he said, humorless and dry, "that's--good for you. You're on a roll. Need I remind you that I was with Tyra?"

"Yeah, but that was like, some doomed, hidden romance--"

"Don't say that. Do not say doomed. For all you know, Tyra's my soulmate."

"Okay," she laughed, "the fact that you just used the word _soulmate_ pretty much makes me think that she's not. You do know that word went out of style, like, a decade ago, right?"

"Fine. Just because something's out-dated doesn't make it any less true. Or not of current fashion."

She used the fry to point at him, like some overly-greased weapon. "I knew it! I knew you were just winding the conversation back to that tacky Member's Only jacket!"

"I maintain," he said, but she talked over him, saying, "You're such a victim of fashion, _seriously_."

He glared. "As I was saying. Perfection doesn't just _go out_ of style. It--it doesn't just stop being relevant."

"Uh, yeah. When embroidered with a 'Member's Only' logo, irrelevance is sort of implied. Sorry."

"Well, now. Look who's talking."

"Excuse me?" As far as Julie was concerned, save that unfortunate bangle bracelet incident two years back, she was up-to-date with what was in style. And maybe sort of ignore the leggings phase, too.

"You ever think, maybe, that girls oughta be just as concerned with what they're wearing? You ever think of that?"

"Uh, _yeah_," she dragged out. The _duh_ was implied.

"'Cause you're sitting over there in your, I don't even know what that is, your Ann Taylor shirt--"

Julie started to laugh. "Okay, seriously, stop right there. Ann Taylor? You do know that's, like, so completely off-topic right now, right?"

He lifted a fry into his mouth and muttered, "That is a matter of perception."

Straw in her mouth, she grinned. "The mutterings of the defeated. Nice."

11.

"Remind me again," Landry said, following her out of the burger joint, "why it's so necessary we go to this thing."

Julie buttoned the top three buttons on her jacket. With the evening came a breeze, wind skittering across the parking lot. "It's pretty much mandatory," she said, and then noticed in the bright fluorescent glare from the outside bulb that there was something in her hair.

Landry brushed it away for her--a few shredded pieces of lettuce and _okay_, over-zealous eater much?--and continued on, "Yeah, that I'm well aware of, but why?"

He opened the passenger side door for her, and she slid into his car, making a face when the cold, stale air hit her bare legs. When Landry was in as well and the car was turned on, heat pouring out of the vents, she told him, "First of all, you're a football player. Jocks are expected to show up at these inane, juvenile bashes to, I don't know, to celebrate their shared brawn. I don't know. It's stupid. And dad is the Coach, so it's like, it's just a _given_ that we'd be there, I don't know. But we should definitely go, to further the _rouse_," she grinned.

"Can I at least wear my jacket?"

She laughed, loud and happy and horrified all at the same time. "No!"

By the time they pulled up to her house, not only was it dark, but Landry had officially given up his Team Member's Only stance, wilting under the powerful argument that the jacket was lame to begin with and had actually never been in style.

"Surely it had its golden years," he said, as some last pathetic attempt. "Singular, even. That's all I'm saying."

Because he paid for dinner, she relented, but only a little. "Fine. But it was probably, you know, 1982, and people were fashionably challenged back then, anyway."

He'd turned towards her, mostly all shadow in the dark car. "I will accept that as validation, thank you."

"One small step," she mocked, and then sighed, sensing that there were parental units hovering near the front door.

"Think if I kissed you, they'd come running out here?"

A blush crawled up the back of her neck, even though he was teasing, even though the idea was _ridiculous_. "Yeah," she said, "I'm pretty sure my dad would rip your car apart."

His hands moved up the steering wheel. "So, tomorrow then? After school. We're really going to one of those Booster things I can seem to recall with amazing clarity as being below our great intellect?"

As she eased out of his car, she gave him a wry smile. "You're dating the Coach's daughter, remember? These are the perks."

12.

Matt scraped at the bottom of the skillet, the eggs he'd cooked still sticking. The whole thing was messed up, anyway. His grandma's toast was burnt, and the eggs that _had_ managed to stay away from the alluring scorched ruins that was the bottom of their pan were brown and flaky.

"Matthew," his grandma said when he handed her the plate of food, "what's this?"

"Dinner."

She eyeballed the offerings warily. "Now, this looks like breakfast to me. I already ate breakfast. Carlotta made just the most amazing pancakes I ever tasted, Matthew, you remember?"

He set the plate in her lap. "I remember, Grandma, but look, Carlotta's not here tonight, so I made you dinner."

"Yeah, but this isn't dinner. This is breakfast."

Tiredly, he sank onto the couch, rubbing his eyes. _Wheel of Fortune_ was on TV. "It's what we had in the fridge. Pretty much _all_ we had in the fridge."

"But I can't eat this," she said, holding the plate away from her, "I already _told_ you, I had my breakfast this morning--"

"It's okay, Grandma" he sighed.

She thought it over. "Well, alright." After taking a bite, she said, "Well, aren't you going to eat anything, Matthew?"

13.

Forty minutes of Panther pandering later, the noise level inside the restaurant died down enough that Julie and Landry could communicate beyond facial expressions. Besides, it meant that he could leave his designated spot on stage with the rest of the football team, standing up there like some kind of trophy, even with the season only half-way through.

He jumped from the stage with the rest of the players pouring over the edge like spilled water, and Julie grinned, beckoning him over because she _needed_ to be saved. Her mom had left her at the same table with her old 'lady friends' from her forgotten book club, which meant she'd had to sit there and get interrogated, basically, and, yeah, it was some version of hell for sure.

But then Tyra swooped in front of Landry like some kind of goddess vulture, all long-limbed and scantily clothed. Julie watched, feeling like some kind of voyeur. Tyra had her back to Julie, mostly blocking Landry from view, but she could see Landry's hands moving, see him shift his weight to glance over at her, and so she turned away, politely smiled at the woman next to her.

And then Landry was there, bent down beside her. Softly, his breath warm against her neck, he said, "Tyra says she wants to talk."

"Oh, good," Julie said, all big smiles and chirpiness, nodding a little crazily, "I mean, t-that's good, right? That's great!" She looked over, and he was right _there_. Close enough that she could see he'd cut himself the last time he shaved, this tiny little red nick right under his jaw.

He was staring at the table cloth, working things through. His weight was this literal _force_ next to her. "I should talk to her. You think?"

"Oh. Absolutely. That's the point, right? Seriously. Go. I mean, who knows, maybe she wants to get back together?"

"Or it could be she's here to skewer me. Ever think of that? Maybe she's here to eviscerate me, publicly, humiliatingly."

Julie swung her legs around, all the better to face him. He looked down at her, and she gave him a small, reassuring smile. "You should go."

He took a deep breath, glancing up at Tyra, who was trying hard to look like she wasn't paying any attention to them. With a warm squeeze to Julie's shoulder, he said, "Wish me luck," and walked away.

"Good luck," she said, too quiet for him to even hear, and watched like some sad, pathetic loser as Landry ushered Tyra outside for, presumably, a rekindling conversation that resulted in some kind of sappy reunion.

And even though that was the plan, and even though she basically ordered Landry out there, she felt betrayed. Worse than that, though, she felt this rolling sensation in her gut, and when she realized what it was, which was this terrible and impossible combination of jealousy and sadness, she nearly fell out of her chair.

14.

Ten minutes later, Landry came swaggering back into the busy restaurant. Julie was standing at the buffet line, filling her plate with slop in an attempt to get a grip on her obviously missing sanity. Jealousy implied feelings for Landry that extended beyond the strictly platonic, and that right there? Definitely not worth thinking about. Definitely worth silencing with buttered rolls and thick slices of turkey.

He saddled up to her side, brushing against her elbow, which was just incredibly indecent of him. They had rules, you know, and what good was it to have them if they were constantly being broken? She sent him a warning glare to let him know he was over-stepping his boundaries here, especially because he was currently all but invading her personal space, but he didn't notice.

"So," he said, full of nerves, "we talked. Me and Tyra."

Julie picked up a ladle. She drizzled a heaping dose of gravy over her food. "Good for you."

He moved in closer, for privacy, probably, and the glare she'd originally sent him was resent, its intensity doubling.

"Yeah," he drawled, sucking in a breath. "I don't know about that."

Risking whiplash, she turned toward him, fast, nearly dropping her loaded paper plate. "What's that supposed to mean? I mean, you two are supposed to be together now, right, because that was the plan, and well, wasn't that just the fruition of our plan?"

Smiling big at their neighbor to their right, who's attention was stirred with Julie's ever-rising words, Landry kept the forced grin going as he pried the plate out of Julie's hands, took her by the elbow and dragged her away. He set the plate down at the nearest table, pulling her still until they reached some quiet spot next to a giant potted plant, away from the mingling crowd. Through the leafs, Julie could see her parents standing side-by-side, Buddy Garrity talking up a storm, trapping them.

Folding her hands across her chest, Julie chose her tactic: indifference. "So where's Tyra?"

"I've been trying to tell you, but you keep taking your usual leaps toward--"

She balled up a fist. "If you say _hysteria_, Landry, I promise, a skewering will be the least of your worries."

His hands jumped up in front of him, placating. "Which, for the record, just so we're clear here, that was not the direction I was taking."

"Good."

"I talked to Tyra. She wants to get back together."

Despite herself, she started stammering, stuck on the same, super obvious fact. "Y-yeah, that was the plan, remember?"

Landry shifted his weight, ducking his head down. "Yeah. I don't know. I mean, it seems to me, right, that the only reason she wants to be with me is because she thinks I'm with you."

"Yeah," Julie said, slow and heavily pronounced. "Hence all of our forethought."

"But, doesn't that seem wrong? To you? That all of a sudden, completely out of the blue, she wants me back? And it's because she thinks we're some hot ticket item, I guess, and maybe, upon further inspection, I don't want Tyra to _want_ me for that reason. I don't know," he sighed, and was staring at her again, "what do you think, cause all this? This is beyond me."

Maternal instincts kicking in, she pulled him in for a hug. He was stiff at first, standing stooped but rigid, but then he eased into it, wrapping his hands around her back, his head tucked over her shoulder. She gave him an extra squeeze, then let go, and they came apart slow, Landry's grip sliding to right above her elbow.

He let out this low, breathy laugh, and she smiled, and something changed in his face. His eyes softened, then his mouth, and then he was staring at her lips, and Julie's heart tapped a wild, scattered beat inside her ribcage when he started to lean in.

"Well there y'all are," her mom said, bright and bubbly and oblivious, and Landry all but pried himself away.

He scratched at his hairline, one hand tucked under his arm. "Mrs. Taylor," he greeted, teeth barred he was grinning so big, "well, hello, how are you? Nice night, innit? All this hospitality, just... out there, for everyone."

Tami's eyes flicked from Julie's to Landry's. "Well, yes," she said, "as it is every week there's a game." Accusation found its way into her words. "What are you two doing over here, all alone, just off to the side by your lonesome?"

"Nothing, _Mom_," Julie said.

"Mmhmm, mmhmm. Well how 'bout joining us, would ya? Buddy Garrity's talking football, and you know how I feel about that, honey."

Her mom had been maneuvering Julie by the shoulders, but Julie ducked down and away from the obvious steering. "Actually," she said, "we were just leaving. Right, Landry?"

He took the cue. "Oh. _Yeah._ We were just gonna go--what was it we were gonna go do, Julie?"

"There's this really amazing movie out, I heard, and it's supposed to be all sophisticated and intellectual, a-and we were gonna go, so."

Her mom looked unconvinced that this was a good idea. "Now, hang on a minute. First of all, honey, it's a school night--"

"Yeah, but we're at the Booster Club, so obviously there's some leniency going on."

Even though it was clear Tami wanted to argue otherwise, there was no way she could do so without coming across as a huge hypocrite.

"So, I'll see you at home, okay?" Julie said.

15.

Eric had managed to find the perfect opening to break away from Buddy Garrity.

"See my wife's over there by her lonesome," he said, and Buddy nodded and said, "Oh, alright. Of course," and gave him his exit.

He came up from behind, squeezing her. "Where's our daughter?"

Tami was staring out the window. "Our daughter just left with Landry Clarke."

The affectionate hug ended. "Back it up. You're saying Julie, our daughter, our hopefully very smart but currently very _stupid_ daughter, left with one of my football players?"

"I do believe that's what I said."

"Why would she go and do a thing like that? On a week day, on a Booster Club bash night? Everyone knows the party's here!"

Tami shrugged wildly. "I don't know! Hun, I do not know how your daughter's brain works, but I will remind you this. That boy she's been spending an awful lot of time with--"

"Lance," he muttered, full of disdain.

"Well, I think it goes without saying that it's just a lot of harmless fun."

"When you say 'fun', what exactly does that entail? 'Cause I'm not so sure I like that word. You sure it's the one you want to use?"

"I talked to Julie," Tami reasoned, "I talked to her in school, and the two of them, they aren't dating. They're just--it's girl stuff, hun, I'll tell you all about it later, but Julie said, I sat her down and we talked, and she told me right to my face that her and Landry weren't dating."

Eric rubbed his jaw. "Not dating, you say?"

"Officially not dating," she agreed. "That is the word."

"So this fun they're off having, that's, what?"

"Burning houses, ripping pages outta books--" Eric was glaring, which made Tami laugh. "Fun, hun! Kid kinda fun, you know, that sweetly platonic stuff that kids do these days."

"Uh-huh," he said.

"They're going to see a movie." She moved in close, lowering her voice. "Know what that means? With Gracie Bell home with a sitter, that means we have all this free time to ourself. All this alone time..."

Eric let a small smile tug at his lips. "What is it you suggest we do with all this alone time?"

Buddy Garrity clamped a hand on each of Eric and Tami's shoulders, killing the moment. "Just the people I was looking for! C'mon, c'mon, Myra's here, he wants to talk plays, runs, all that good stuff. C'mon!"

16.

Julie stood beside Landry's car, hair blowing in the wind. They made it to the theater, but the theater was closed, of course, everyone over at the big Booster Bash _hurrah_.

"So," she said, and tucked her hands under her arms for some much needed warmth, "at least we managed to get away."

Landry was propped against the car beside her. "That's the only positive spin you can come up with? That's sad. That is real sad."

"Whatever. You were too busy with Tyra to notice that Smash was like, three minutes away from rapping about inevitable state championships."

"Oh, was I? I missed that? That's a shame."

"Yeah," she teased, "it's such a shame that you missed the whole overblown, self-sensationalized exhibit--"

"Can I ask you something?" he cut in, and he leaned so that he could face her.

"S-sure," she said, "absolutely."

"You think I'm some kind of idiot, don't you, for leaving things with Tyra the way I did, for not taking her back even though she pretty much offered herself up on some, some _beautiful_ platter--"

"N-n-no, no, no," Julie said, hard and enthusiastic, "No, I mean, why would I think that, that's just stupid."

"Really? 'Cause from where I'm standing, that was supposed to be the end objection. The finality."

"Yeah, but." Julie shrugged. "You said yourself that it was a bad way to get her back. Because of _The Plan_."

"Yeah," he agreed, "I did say that, didn't I?"

"I don't know," she said, her words unraveling all of a sudden, "it's like, I still like Matt, you know, I still think about him and I care about him, but, you know, I don't know, I just think getting back together with him under these circumstances would just cause this huge strain--"

"That's what I was thinking. Like, strains in the relationship."

"Exactly, a-and that seems sort of counteractive, right, to work so hard to get together only to have these annoying fractures tear us back apart."

"Fruitless," he agreed.

Feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and some big life decision was reached and made, she copied his stance, most of her weight against his car. Landry was smiling warmly at her, and self-consciousness kicked in. "What?" she demanded.

"That's the most level-headed and calm I've seen you this entire time."

She nudged him with her shoulder. "Whatever." There wasn't a lot of space between them, and when he jabbed her back, it became even less.

"I take it," he said, "that what we're witnessing right now is the unraveling of the plan."

"Our infallible plan," she sighed dramatically, then smiled. "I guess it was sort of ridiculous in the first place, to think it would even work."

"Really quite stupid of us," he agreed, and there was that change in his face again, and Julie knew he was going to kiss her, and even though that though connected pretty solidly, she stayed where she was, all perfectly positioned and smiling and like he said, calm.

He tipped her chin up, staring for a long moment into her eyes, giving her an out. Making sure that she wanted it, too, that he wasn't doing something that would not only royally diminish his already unstable situation with Tyra, but screw things up with her as well regarding this tentative, new _whatever_ it was that they had.

"This," he breathed out, eyes fluttering shut, "was definitely not part of the plan."

17.

"--you run Smash, you run him all the way to the end zone and back if you want, I guarantee we get ourselves a win, and who knows, down the line, you're adding another trophy to the trophy case, that's all I'm saying."

Eric smiled tightly at Buddy. "That sounds like a fine plan."

"Now, defensively there's some gaps..."

THE END.


End file.
